


Stitches

by otawritesthings



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Dave | Technoblade, Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Near Death Experiences, Platonic Relationships, mama sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28266237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otawritesthings/pseuds/otawritesthings
Summary: Sam nearly tripped over his feet scrambling for the lever, and threw it with all his might. Glass crunched under his boots, and he skidded running for the door.Please let him be alive.Please let him be okay.The doorway slid down, and Sam felt his heart stop.—Quackity always comes to Sam for armor and tools for protection, but the protection he finds is a bond that cannot be broken.—Alternatively: 5 times Quackity goes to Sam for help
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Sam | Awesamdude
Comments: 8
Kudos: 224





	Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> So I was reading Quackitys smp wiki (like the simp I am) and I stumbled upon the fact that apparently Sam calls him son and supplies him with tools.
> 
> This fic was born.
> 
> Before we begin: this fic is extremely self-indulgent bc I love fatherly dynamics and Quackity is my fave content creator at the moment. After combing through this fandom, I am aware that this is not the type of work that is normally published or read, but I just really really really wanted it, so please take it.
> 
> Have a merry Christmas, happy hanukah, happy kwanza, or just a wonderful winter season!!

1.  


-

Quackity had been in Dream SMP for a total of one week when he first argued with Dream. 

Hindsight being 20/20, he should have known not to pick a petty fight with the literal  _ king  _ of the land, but indeed he had, and it ended with Dream cackling like a hyena and Quackity with significantly less diamonds in his pockets than before.

_ Well… fuck. _

“ _ George,”  _ he whined, flopping onto the brit’s shoulder dramatically, “I need  _ stuff.  _ Where do I get  _ stuff? _ ”

George wrinkled his nose and glanced at Quackity from under his glasses, “What kinda  _ stuff?  _ Like drugs?”

“No, I mean like… armor and things!” Quackity threw his arms in the air. As his hand came down it banged against George’s netherite chestplate and he winced, retracting his hand and waving the pain away.

“Ohhh.” George hummed, “Well in that case, I  _ do  _ know a guy. That is, unless you don’t want to go get the materials by yourself.”

“PLEASE TELL ME ABOUT THE GUY.” Quackity shouted. No way in  _ hell  _ was he about to go mining on his own for this stuff. It would take  _ ages.  _

“He’s actually my roommate.” George chuckled, “But I actually have somewhere to be right now so… get Sapnap to take you.” 

“Wait George-!” But the brit had disappeared down the mountain.

“He’s definitely going to go take a nap.” Quackity scoffed, but nonetheless found himself trudging towards Sapnap’s base.

  
  


“Yeah, his name is Sam.” Sapnap nodded, leaning against his fishtank with a disinterested look on his face. “I went to go see him with Tommy once.”

“Well can you take me there?” Quackity sighed exasperatedly. With every second they wasted, the election drew closer, and compared to the likes of the Wilbur/Tommy powerhouse duo, Quackity knew he looked like nothing more than a doormat. Armor was the first step to being taken seriously on this server.

Sapnap grunted, but peeled himself off of his giant fishtank anyway. “Fine.” He rapped on the glass with his knuckles with a ‘bye Mars’ then grabbed his netherite sword and was on his way. Quackity heaved a sigh of relief. This was so much better than grinding.

  
  


Sapnap kicked the mountain with his netherite boots. The sound reverberated through the stone, making Quackity wince. What would kicking the mountain do anyway? Was sapnap lost or something? He shrugged tighter into his jacket. It was cold in these mountains.

Where were they anyway?

His question was answered when the mountain groaned out a whirring noise and then suddenly began to sink into the dirt.

_ A door. _

The door finally lowered the rest of the way down, coming to a stop with a final  _ clunk  _ and Quackity got a good look inside. Buried deep in the mountain was the largest workshop he had ever seen. Chests lined the walls, shelves were filled to the brim with shiny books and vials of potions. A hallway led down to what looked like a spacious living space, and on the other side of the room was a giant desk covered in papers and a red dust. Sitting at the desk, his hand on a lever, was a very,  _ very,  _ tall man. 

Quackity didn’t like to consider himself necessarily  _ short,  _ but he wasn’t a tall man. This guy,  _ Sam _ , was  _ huge. _

He had emerald green hair, and what looked like blocky green freckled dotting his face. On his head was perched a shiny golden helmet with brilliant red gems embedded in it. His face sported a lazy grin and a mask fashioned to look like a creeper that shielded his eyes from view. Quackity’s mind flickered to Dream, and with a spike of anger remembered why he was there. 

“Hey Sap!” Sam greeted, pushing himself out of his chair and walking over and  _ yeah  _ he really was that tall, “Who’s this?”

“This,” Sapnap knocked Quackity on the shoulder, shooting him a boyish grin, “is Quackity. We all call him Big Q.”

“Quackity huh?” Sam hummed, then stuck out his hand, “Well hey. Awesamdude at your service. You can just call me Sam though. What can I do ya for?”

“I uh--” Quackity cleared his throat. He was  _ not  _ intimidated, thank you very much, “I need some armor and tools and stuff. Dream took all of mine.”

Sam laughed through a sigh, “Yeah, that seems to happen a lot.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, and the golden armor he wore over his green tunic clinked at the motion, “Here, I just got back from netherite mining, but I need to assemble the armor still. I can give you diamond for now though if you need it.”

Quackity almost sighed in relief, and he was sure it showed on his face because Sam just laughed at him and headed deep into the workshop. He dug through a chest, eventually pulling out the most polished set of diamond armor Quackity had seen in his life. 

“Here ya go kid.” Sam nodded, “Bring it back later and I can make it better if you want.” He paused, “Why do you need it anyway? Most people go mining for their own, ya know? Not that I’m judging you or anything.”

Quackity laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “I- uh… I’m running against Wilbur for presidency of L’manburg, and he well… I don’t think anyone takes me very seriously right now.”

“Wilbur huh?” Sam hummed, staring off in the direction that Sapnap and he had come from. “Well, good luck. From what I understand those L’manburg boys are a handful. More trouble than they’re worth.”

Quackity laughed, “That’s for sure.” 

-

2.

-

Quackity scuffed his foot on the ground uncomfortably. He had never come up here  _ alone.  _ Sure he had gone to see Sam with Sapnap, Tommy, even George, but coming up here to grovel like a beggar at the rich man’s feet. With clammy hands he rapped on the stone, and waited for the grinding of the pistons to come alive. Sure enough, the wall began to lower, revealing Sam’s workshop in its glory. Today Sam was hunched over his desk, hands tinkering away at a redstone contraption of sorts. He looked up when quackity entered before prying himself from his work.

“Hey Q!” He greeted, smiling broadly and welcoming the smaller man in, “So? How did the election turn out? That was today… right?”

“Uhhh… yeah.” Quackity hummed, “My VP slept through it yesterday.” He laughed, but it didn’t sound like himself. Sam seemed to notice. Damn.

“But… how about today? Is everything alright?” The older man pressed, crossing over to where Quackity still stood solid in the doorway.

“We… won I guess.” Quackity shrugged. It was true-- they  _ had  _ won -- and in the heat of the moment it felt euphoric. All that Quackity had worked for was coming together slowly. But now… standing in Sam’s house he felt… hollow. “Schlatt and I pooled out votes to beat Tommy and Wilbur.”

Sam frowned under his mask, the corners of his mouth turning down, “But…?”

“It doesn’t feel… right.” Quackity glared at the floor, “We kicked Wilbur and Tommy out of L’manburg. We tore down the walls. We burned the flag. I’m technically the  _ vice president  _ but it doesn’t feel like we won at all.”

Sam hummed in agreement, shoving his hands in the pockets of his green pants. “Well… I can’t do anything about that. Is there anything you need? Armor… weapons... ”

Quackity opened his mouth to speak, but came up empty. He wasn’t exactly sure  _ why  _ he came out to the warehouse. He just wanted to get away because as  _ great  _ as Schlatt was he was loud and constantly plastered and screaming about something. Tubbo was like his lapdog now, and Quackity felt sick to his stomach watching the kid scramble around like a kicked animal. He just wanted to go somewhere… quiet. Peaceful.  _ Outside _ L’manburg. 

Sam’s mountain had beckoned him like a beacon. 

Sam must have taken note of his stunned silence so he nodded. “Alrighty then. Well, if you want to help me put together this bow I’ll let you try it out--”

Sam didn’t mention when Quackity stayed longer than planned. It was… nice.

-

3.

-

The explosion had…  _ hurt  _ to say the least. He wasn’t sure how or when it happened but one minute he was watching Philza Minecraft run across the Presidential platform and go barrelling into a thin opening in the hill behind it. He wasn’t sure if anyone else noticed-- though Nikki  _ had  _ to have because her eyes went wide. She glanced to the side and met Quackity’s gaze, and damn he wished she could understand what she was communicating with her eyes. But there was adrenaline coursing through his body from the fight and his mind was running a thousand miles an hour and he couldn’t  _ possibly  _ believe that anything was going wrong.

And then, the ground seemed to vibrate with an unholy force and then he was flying into the air. 

Dirt and debris covered his skin, fire burned at the back of his armor and he remembered screaming out something that sounded a lot like  _ SHIT  _ before he was falling through the air and slamming into the dirt. The breath flew from his lungs, and the world flickered black.

Was this how he was going to die? Wilbur, despite  _ everything  _ Quackity had done to change the tides, had pressed the button. Every single damn thing Quackity had done to protect it had been in vain. 

The world swam in shades of white, black, and red. His lungs constricted. The muscles screamed in agony.

“-Q! Big Q! Quackity!” 

Sam?

The lip of a bottle was being pressed against this lip and a cool liquid flooded down his throat. 

“Drink-- Drink.” Sam ordered, and Quackity agreed. His vision started to clear as the healing potion flooded through his system. The world swam back into clarity and there was Sam, leaning over him, Sapnap leaning precariously over his shoulder. Sapnap’s eye looked like it was starting to swell, and the green haired man had a thick stream of blood running down the side of his head. Quackity knew he looked no better.

“Wilbur… did it?” he asked, “He fucking did it?”

Sam sighed, “Yeah... Yeah.” He held out a hand -- calloused from hours of redstone mechanics --that the dark haired man gladly took. “C’mon… I think the show’s about to start.”

Oh how right he was.

-

4.

-

“Heya son, what’s up?” Sam leaned back over his shoulder, buried up to his elbows in a chest of redstone. 

Quackity snorted, running a hand through his dark hair, “Son? That’s new. You’re not that much older than me.”

“Maybe not in age,” Sam nodded, smirking, “But maturity? Most definitely.” Quackity rolled his eyes, but sauntered up to the green haired man with a smile on his face. 

“So what are you doing?” Quackity leaned back on Sam’s workbench, earning him a weak slap to the arm.

“Working on some pistons.” Sam informed, turning back to his work, “Dream asked me to build something for him.”

“Dream… huh?” Quackity frowned, the words feeling bitter on his tongue. Dream was the cause of all of his problems these days it seemed. 

Sam paused, fingers stilling over his creation. “Is something wrong?”

“You heard Tommy got exiled?” Quackity sniffed, rubbing his boot across the polished floors of Sam’s house, “It’s Dream’s fault. He made Tubbo do it. That’s… that’s why I’m here actually.” He laughed mirthlessly. “I need your help again, Sam.”

That was the nature of their relationship. Quackity would make the trek to the badlands to Sam’s workshop and the older man would furnish him with the best tools, potions, and armor that hands could make. Quackity in return would give him company. Sam, it seemed, liked peace. He sought out the badlands to escape a world that was pulling itself apart at the seams. Quackity was his only solace on the quietest days when Ant, BadboyHalo, and Skeppy would vanish off to unknown places. 

The two formed a sort of… bond that Quackity could not quite describe. It was Sam that Quackity sought out when he felt the need to have Schlatt back in his life and it was Quackity who Sam sought in his darkest moments when the world felt like it was crawling into his secluded corner of the world. 

And here Quackity was: needing Sam’s wise expertise. It was now or never, and he was not going to go down without a fight.

Sam, always observant and wise, picked up on it. “What are you going to do, Q?”

Quackity smiled at Sam, the cocky grin covering up the anxiety that pooled in his stomach.

“I am going to kill Technoblade.”

Same paused for a minute, then his mouth slid into a hard line.

“No, you’re not.”

Fury pooled in Quackity’s stomach, “What do you mean by that? Do you think I’m not good enough or something?”

Sam sighed, looking suddenly very old, even with the mask on. “I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rounded on Quackity, voice low and serious. “I mean that no matter how strong you are, Techno is stronger.”

“We have a  _ plan-- _ ” Quackity interrupted, but Sam just shook his head.

“And Techno will have a better one. Did you see what he did after the war? What he did to Tubbo? He won’t hesitate to  _ kill  _ you Quackity.”

“And? I have two lives left--”

“You’re willing to sacrifice yourself? For  _ what? _ ” Sam breathed, throwing his hands in the air as punctuation.

“To make this  _ country.”  _ Quackity found himself yelling, “Tommy was exiled because Dream controls everyone, and we can’t possibly overthrow Dream with Techno in the shadows so we  _ have  _ to!”

“At the cost of your  _ life? _ ” Sam hissed, “And after you, who next? Tubbo? Fundy? That kid Ranboo?”

“It’s worth it--”

“It’s not.” Sam shook his head, “It’s not. Not with a plan so crazy as that.”

“Maybe not.” Quackity sighed, then looked Sam dead in the eye holes of his mask, “Not without some help.”

Sam froze, meeting Quakity’s gaze.

“When is he war?”

-

5.

\- 

Sam’s fingers trembled from where they were buried in the brewing stand. 

Already he had broken two bottles that day, the glass shards still remaining on the floor to be powdered by his netherite boots. He couldn’t be bothered to care though, mind too focused on the absent telltale knock on stone that would signify Quackity’s return.

The clock on the wall ticked, filling the heavy silence. Quackity said they would fight at noon and now--

It was nearing nightfall, and no word from the younger man.

Visions darted in his mind of worst case scenarios: Quackity being slaughtered by Technoblade, both of his remaining lives in L’manberg being taken; Quackity and his men being injured beyond belief and unable to ask for help; or maybe worse, them succeeding and the boy he once knew would never be the same.

He stilled his fingers and poured in the rest of the blaze powder to the apparatus, stepping back and trying to calm his thrumming heart.

Three knocks echoed on the door to the workshop.

Sam nearly tripped over his feet scrambling for the lever, and threw it with all his might. Glass crunched under his boots, and he skidded running for the door.

_ Please let him be alive. _

_ Please let him be okay. _

The doorway slid down, and Sam felt his heart stop. 

There was quackity, mouth a bloody mess, one eye black and bruising, blood streaming from a cut on his forehead. His arm was cradled tenderly around his midsection and he was leaning all of his weight to one side but he was  _ alive. _

“Q!” Sam found himself wheezing out the kid’s name. Quackity stumbled inside, a sheepish grin seeping across his face.

“Hey.”

“Okay, okay, uhm--” For the first time in his life, Sam felt lost. “Let me grab a healing potion. S-Sit down.” 

Quackity didn’t make it that far though, instead collapsing on the ground with a painful grunt of pain. His face screwed up in agony, and that was enough to have Sam moving faster than ever. He grabbed as many golden apples and potions as he possibly could. He reached for more, but the damn mask had a  _ blind spot  _ and he  _ couldn’t see  _ so--

He ripped the string of the mask and left it tumbling to the floor. He didn’t need it now. He needed to help the kid in his house.

He dove for the floor, hoisting quackity up and uncorking a glass vial. “It’s alright. It’s gonna be alright.” He wasn’t sure who he was reassuring.

“I fucked-- I fucked it up.” Quackity gasped, taking the potion gratefully, and maybe yesterday Sam would have cared but today he was just happy to see him alive.

“Just rest.” Sam breathed, passing a golden apple to his hands. Vaguely he registered how covered with blood they were.

“I died, Sam.” Quackity shook his head, and  _ damn  _ those were the words he was  _ not  _ hoping to hear. “I only have one life--”

“It’s fine.” Sam assured, and he reminded himself that it was. It was fine. They were fine. “It’s fine, son.”

And slowly Quackity came back to life, and Sam found himself breathing in fresh air. Everything would be fine. The world was being torn apart now, but soon, they could stitch it back together.


End file.
